


fine, great

by colonellaurens



Series: you're an open book but i can't read you [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, Langst, M/M, POV First Person, after season 8 so spoilers ahoy, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22657135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonellaurens/pseuds/colonellaurens
Summary: He takes a step closer and it takes all that I have not to take a step back. He doesn’t say anything. It feels like the silence is suffocating me. What ever happened to the comfortable silence Keith and I used to fall into when we didn’t have anything to say? I guess this relationship — friendship — is ruined too. We’re just standing here in the doorway to my room, staring at each other like a bunch of idiots. And not even smiling idiots, either. More like dumbasses, if you ask me.But then he says, “Can I come in?”Wordlessly, because I don’t trust myself to not say something stupid, I step aside. He walks in and the door hisses shut behind him. I think about locking it, but I doubt Keith is here for that. We haven’t — not since — uh, before. When we were in that weird friends-with-benefits situation. Maybe he’s here to tell me he doesn’t want to talk to me ever again. Who’s to say?Or, where Allura doesn't sacrifice herself, she and Lance break up, and a certain someone comes along to try and help.(Rating may change.)
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: you're an open book but i can't read you [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1213572
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	fine, great

**Author's Note:**

> so....i'm totally writing these out of order. considering it's been more than a year since I've posted anything, i might be a little rusty. also note that this is part of a series! it's an au where keith and lance are friends (enemies?) with benefits and highkey fall in love with each other. you don't have to read the others to understand this one, but it would provide context, yknow?  
> the whole premise of this fic is that allura never dies, she and lance date for a while, and they break up.  
> I made a playlist for this series because i have a problem. i thought i'd share it. you can find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6tOnvjT8hLe6XCvktaSPiO?si=1q3-RbauQTa7_7P-5DTewA)

It’s a little weird being some sort of celebrity throughout the galaxy. It’s like the moment you forget you’re an intergalactic sensation, someone comes along and reminds you all over again. Not that I’m complaining — the attention is nice. It’s like I was _born_ to be famous!

It’s just tiring. Really, _really_ tiring. It’s not easy being this charming all the time.

I don’t know. I think it put strain on my relationship with Allura. At first, I thought she was mad at me for drawing hearts next to my name when girls asked for autographs (I gotta give the people what they want! There’s plenty of Lance to go around), but that didn’t seem right. No, there’s a difference between _mad at me for flirting with other girls_ Allura and _trying to hide her feelings but it kind of looks like she’s mad at me_ Allura. They’re more similar than you’d think. When Allura’s mad at me, she’s either passive aggressive or a little distant. We usually work through it, but not this time. This was different.

She’d been making more and more trips to Altea, and honestly, that’s understandable. If I were in her shoes, I’d want to visit my home planet as much as I could after it got restored by some weird sort of magic that brought back every single reality that has ever existed. She was now the empress of Altea, and I was busy with my own stuff on Earth, so there really wasn’t a lot of time to hang out and go for ice cream or something. We could hardly see each other, and it’s not like I can just text her _hey babe, how goes it on planet Altea?_ I don’t think my cell plan covers intergalactic texting — could you _imagine_ the extra fees?!

I’m kidding. But seriously, there wasn’t a lot of time to talk. I guess we started drifting apart, getting caught up in our own stuff. 

When I realized it, my stomach did flips. But not the good kind.

It’s really not her fault. I felt a little bad. It felt like our relationship was at a standstill, but we didn’t know how to work past it. Like we didn’t _want to_ work past it. I guess I was distant too. Plus...I wasn’t making her laugh anymore. I remember, before the Castle of Lions was destroyed, how much we laughed. I used to play with her hair when she was super stressed out. The perks of growing up with sisters — you learn how to braid hair even if your own hair isn’t long enough to braid. I’d let her vent to me about all her problems and I braided and re-braided her hair until she felt better. Dutch braids, French braids, normal braids, four stranded braids — all of it! (Except fishtail. Fuck fishtail braids. I could never get the hang of it.)

It was sort of like a girls’ night! I showed her just how soothing doing a clay mask could be, and she told me what life was like on her home planet, as she remembered it. Coran’s a great storyteller and all, but he made Altea sound like Narnia or something. Allura tells it like it is, and that’s something I can appreciate. Keith’s the only other person I know who does it so well (even though he sucks at feelings — he’s got the emotional competency of a piece of drywall).

We stopped doing that a long time ago. It was probably around the time the Castle of Lions turned into a teeny crystal full of energy.

I miss that. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until it felt weird to ask her if we could have another girls’ night. I mean, I should be able to come to her with anything, right? It’s not that she’s unapproachable, it’s that I don’t even know how I feel about a lot of things most of the time! I missed the Allura who would give me flat looks every time I used a stupid, cheesy pickup line on her. I missed when she could take me out in one punch if she wanted to. (Like, she still could, but what I’m trying to say is that it’s not an option for her anymore.)

So, it was kind of a relief when she came up to me after a team dinner once (since we’re hardly ever together in one place anymore) and said, “Lance, could we talk?”

Well. Okay, no it sort of freaked me out, but stay with me here!

We went to take a walk outside, kind of like our first date, but different. The mood was different. She wasn’t out here restoring entire parks, at least.

At some point, she stopped and turned to me. She grabbed my hands and said, “You know that I love you, right?”

I chuckled nervously. “I sure hope you do.”

She ignored me. “Listen,” she hesitated, which only made me more nervous, since the empress of Altea does _not_ hesitate, “surely you’ve noticed...we aren’t as close as we used to be.”

I felt my breath rush out of me all at once. “Yeah. I guess we’re not, huh?”

“Yes…” she trailed off, looking at something on the floor. Probably an old piece of gum someone dropped on the floor ages ago, before the Galra invaded.

“Allura? Is everything okay?” I could feel my nerves standing on end. I was getting more and more antsy by the minute. 

“Well,” she looked like she was about to say yes, but instead she just sighed and slumped her shoulders. “Truthfully, no. Something’s been weighing on my mind for a while now.”

I felt her hands tighten around mine. She still wasn’t looking at me, but there was worry etched in every feature of her face.

“What is it, babe?”

“Are you...happy?” she finally asked, looking up at me. She was scrutinizing my face. I knew she could tell when I was lying, so maybe that’s what she was looking out for. “With our relationship, I mean.”

I really didn’t know how to answer. I think I stood there for a few minutes with my mouth hanging open like some kind of tool.

“I...I don’t know.” I was actually kind of bored. I don’t know, it’s like we had some sort of spark in the beginning but now that the universe was saved, there was nothing keeping it lit. No battle to rush into to gallantly save her, no more sparring until we were tired or she inevitably beat me. No more trees to save with pretty Altean magic.

“Does it feel like something’s...missing?” She supplied.

“Yeah, kind of.” It was like she was guiding me to some realization I couldn’t reach on my own. And I knew just the thing. “It feels like, I dunno, like we’re sort of...going through the motions of a relationship? Like I _do_ still love you! That’s not the problem. I just…” I sighed. Now I was the one looking away, down at our hands. “I _really_ want to make this work, but that’s kind of hard to do when we’re on opposite sides of the galaxy all the time.”

I looked up in time to see her purse her lips. She then met my eyes and said, “Lance, I’ve been thinking. About us, that is. In the beginning, we moved a little fast. Of course — we loved each other. That wasn’t the issue. You even told me that you loved me on our first date.” She smiled with the memory of it. I don’t regret telling her. “Maybe we didn’t think it through. We thought that we could die fighting the Galra empire and trying to end the war, so why not get together? It would make sense.” She pursed her lips again. She was right, too. Kind of like how people do stupid and impulsive things when they think the world is gonna end. “And since I’ve taken up my duties as the new Empress of Altea, it’s not a secret that we’ve been...drifting apart. Maybe…” she trailed off, and I could see the hesitation in her eyes. But she continued.

“Maybe it would be best if we broke up. I don’t think we’re right for each other anymore.”

It hit me like a ton of bricks. Part of me was expecting it, but didn’t want to believe it. I mean, I really don’t blame her. I don’t think I could be happy in a _really_ long-distance relationship like that. Something like this was probably inevitable.

“Yeah,” I said, stupidly. “Yeah, no, I get it. That’s probably,” I let my hands slip from hers, “probably for the best.”

Honestly? I cried like a baby that night. I don’t know why, I just sort of _did_ — but I guess that’s because breakups are _supposed_ to hurt. I knew that once the initial awkwardness faded, we could have girls’ nights again. Maybe not in the same way that we did on the Castle of Lions, but something close. Hopefully. We could go to my mami’s house, listen to music (I forgot how much I _missed_ music on Earth), and I could braid her hair.

That’s all I can do, at least. Hope.

But that was all, like, two weeks ago. It still stings to think about her, so I try not to. I’ve been playing _Killbot Phantasm I_ like I haven’t played it a million times already to distract myself. Works wonders.

There’s a knock at my door. I’m staying at the Garrison for a while. Trying to get a job, I guess. What am I gonna do, work on a farm for the rest of my life? I’m also here to bother the hell out of Pidge whenever possible. For a second, I think that she’s at the door, so I almost don’t pause the game, but then they say —

_“Hey Lance, you okay?”_

And I nearly give myself a concussion with how fast I sit up. I almost rip the controller right out of the console, too, which would have _killed_ my progress.

It’s not Pidge. Not that _that’s_ what startled me into mostly launching myself out of bed to get to the door. For a second, it sounded like — _no,_ that’s just stupid. He wouldn’t be here. It’s probably just Shiro. Yeah. Probably. 

I’m at the door now, but I hesitate. My hand is hovering over the button that would open the door, but I don’t press it. Not immediately.

It’s not who I think it is. It’s just wishful thinking on my part. It’s definitely _not_ the one person I’ve been dying to see for the past couple of weeks (but I’d never tell him that) and who I haven’t seen in months because he skips out on team dinners on Earth when he’s halfway across the galaxy on Daibazaal, which is all the time, always. He’s always away, even when he can easily teleduv over here.

It _can’t_ be him.

(Also, how embarrassing would it be for me to be able to recognize him by just his voice? Preeetty embarrassing, if you ask me.)

But that won’t stop my stupid heart from pounding against my ribcage like it wanted to greet him first. It doesn’t stop the fact that I look like _shit_ because I can’t remember the last time I showered properly.

God, I hope it’s not him. I take a look in a mirror nearby and my hair is sticking up in every way imaginable. I’m breaking out in small bits that I hope he won’t notice. I hastily comb my fingers through my hair to try to get it to _lay flat, damn it,_ but my hair just curls back up and my fingers come back greasy. It’s…a _little_ better. Maybe. Hopefully. I don’t have time to brush it out.

There’s another knock.

_“Lance?”_

It’s— it’s gotta be Shiro. It _has_ to be. He just sounds a little weird. Yeah, that’s it. I take a steadying breath and go to open the door. Then, I suddenly remember, _oh right, the universe hates me._

Because it’s him.

Of _course_ it’s him.

He’s standing there, frowning. But not bad frowning. More like he’s worried. (Which is bad because, even though I’ve been dying to see him, I don’t need _him_ to be worried about me too.) He’s in his Marmora uniform with the hood down, and I can see that his hair is longer and tied back, which is _new,_ but I absolutely love it—and _god_ I missed him. 

“Keith — hey!” I say, trying to hide the surprise (and nerves) in my voice. “Everything’s all good in the Lance department, what’s good with you?” I flash him one of the most charming smiles I can muster, and I lean against the doorway in a way that makes all the ladies swoon. Maybe he won’t notice I look like crap, because he never pays attention to his own looks, so why would he pay attention to mine?

He rolls his eyes — tsk, tsk. Classic Keith. One of these days, his eyes are going to roll out of his head and he won’t have his Lancelot (haha, get it?) to save him. He looks at me for a second, like he’s picking me apart at the seams. I don’t like it. Not a bit.

So I casually put my hands in the pockets of my sweatpants (god, it’s like, 3 PM but it looks like I just rolled out of bed), still leaning against the frame. “Did you need something?”

“Lance, what’s going on with you?”

Now it’s my turn to frown. “What do you mean, what’s wrong with me? Nothing’s wrong with me! Nothing at all, Keithy boy.”

He takes a step closer and it takes all that I have not to take a step back. He doesn’t say anything. It feels like the silence is suffocating me. What ever happened to the comfortable silence Keith and I used to fall into when we didn’t have anything to say? I guess _this_ relationship — _friendship_ — is ruined too. We’re just standing here in the doorway to my room, staring at each other like a bunch of idiots. And not even smiling idiots, either. More like dumbasses, if you ask me.

But then he says, “Can I come in?”

Wordlessly, because I don’t trust myself to not say something stupid, I step aside. He walks in and the door hisses shut behind him. I think about locking it, but I doubt Keith is here for _that._ We haven’t — not since — uh, _before._ When we were in that weird friends-with-benefits situation. Maybe he’s here to tell me he doesn’t want to talk to me ever again. Who’s to say?

“Still playing _Killbot_ ?” he says, surveying the room. He looks at me with a smile, and _wow,_ okay, it makes me feel something like affection. Towards Keith? Ew. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Just because he’s seen me naked doesn’t mean I’m in _love_ with the guy.

“Nice to see nothing has changed,” he says with that same smile on his face. I frown.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Keith shrugs — he shrugs! In my face! In my own room! I don’t know what that _means!_

“You’re just jealous because I can get to level 36 and you can’t.”

That makes him look at me a little strangely, like I just referenced a vine he’s never heard before.

“What? No I’m not,” he says, like I believe him. Which...okay, I do but only because I get the feeling he’s the type of nerd who would play _Monsters and Mana_ before _Killbot Phantasm I._ But then I remember that he wasn’t there when we played that. He was off playing with the Blade of Marmora. Then _that_ reminds me all over again that I missed him just as much as I did when he was gone before. I can feel the response I had flizzle out and die in my throat, and all I want to do is hug him before he’s gone again. I sigh and look away, bouncing on my toes. I can’t just hug him out of the blue. I have no idea how he’d react to that. And I have some pride, you know! I can’t. I chance a glance back at him and he looks like he might say something.

And then _he_ hugs _me._

I can’t help myself. His arms settle around my middle and I wrap mine around his neck. He’s a little taller than me. I forgot about that. It’s something I used to pretend to resent when he got back from that weird space adventure, but now there’s no need to pretend anymore. He hugs me tight — _quiznack,_ it feels so nice. I forgot how hugging him is like feeling the warmth of a fireplace in the dead of winter, feeling like everything is alright. Like there’s a cup of warm tea in your hands and you’re wrapped in the softest blanket in the house.

“Lance,” he says into my shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you stink.”

That makes me sputter elegantly and I’m the first to break the hug. I push him out at arm’s length and say, “Rude!”

“I said not to take it the wrong way! When’s the last time you took a shower, anyways?”

I hesitate. “Would you believe me if I said last night?”

“Not a chance,” he deadpans. I drop my hands from his shoulders and go to sit on my bed with a hefty sigh.

“Does it matter?”

He gives me a look. “It matters. You haven’t left your room in days.”

“Well, okay, _no,_ that doesn’t sound right.” My voice is a pitch higher towards the end of that sentence. But it’s true! That can’t be right. Sure, I’ve spent more time in my room lately, but _I leave my room._

But Keith sighs. “I got here yesterday, Lance.”

“What? No you haven’t.” Now _that_ doesn’t sound right either. Nothing here sounds right! Am I in the twilight zone or something?

“I was waiting for you to come out and say hi by yourself, but,” he shrugs again. “You didn’t.” He takes a seat next to me on my bed, to my right. Not too close, I notice. Then I notice that I haven’t made my bed in weeks and my sheets probably don’t smell all that nice, either. Great going, Lance. You have the hottest guy in the world in your room, and your _bedsheets_ are dirty. “Pidge said you’ve been holed up in here and you barely ever come out.”

I’m about to say something, but I see him stare intensely at the ground and I catch sight of a muscle in his jaw jumping. He’s clenching his jaw again. It’s an old habit from back at the Garrison. Before this whole space adventure. It means he’s trying to figure out how to say something.

“I’m worried about you, Lance,” he says softly, softer than it has any right being, and it makes my chest hurt. Because of _course_ it does. He looks at me and I can see his eyes darting all over my face.

The way he looks at me makes me feel emotionally responsible, and I don’t like that. So I say, “Why? Are you afraid my handsome good looks are gonna vanish just like that?” I grin, but he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even crack a smile. He looks...disappointed? Constipated? It’s hard to tell sometimes. 

“I came here to see you,” he says, and I can’t bear to look at him anymore so I pull at a loose string on my shirt. Just to give me something else to look at. “You didn’t respond to my messages, so I had to make sure you didn’t die or something.” He gives me a playful nudge and I look up to see him smile. Oh, sweet, sweet Keith. Never change.

But, that’s weird. I...forgot that he messaged me. So I feel a little silly, as you can imagine, because he’s _right here_ on _Earth,_ when he should be on some other planet, helping people rebuild the tattered ruins of a ten-thousand year old empire, bit by bit. He shouldn’t be here helping _me_ rebuild my love life.

“Sorry,” I mumble, looking away again because apparently I can’t look anyone in the eye today. “I must’ve forgot.”

I feel his hand settle on my shoulder, the left one. He pulls me into another hug and suddenly my face is in the crook of his neck and my throat has a huge lump in it and I can feel him breaking down whatever walls I’ve built around myself for the past few weeks. He’s good at doing that. He’s good at making me cave and tell him what’s up. I start breathing shakily because _holy hell_ breakups hurt like a bitch. It’s like someone cracked your sternum and every breath sort of hurts until you forget that pain is there. I mean, eventually it heals up, right? Eventually.

Then I can’t help but wrap my arms around his middle and bury my face into the crook of his neck. He smells good. He’s always smelled good. I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like drinking hot cocoa topped with marshmallows, whipped cream, and sprinkles on a cold and rainy day, except you’re inside sitting close to someone you care about and everything is nice and warm. That’s the feeling I get when I get a whiff of Keith. And it’s the feeling I’m getting now, too. Except I feel like I’m going to cry.

His other hand comes up to rub my back, the way he used to when we slept in each other’s room all the time. Mostly naked. This time we’re clothed, but that’s alright. We don’t have to be naked for him to rub my back.

“I...heard. About you and Allura. It’s alright,” he says, and apparently _that’s_ the straw that broke this camel’s back because the next thing I know, I sob. I sob and I sob and I can’t really stop. He lets me. And the whole time, he’s rubbing my back and telling me it’s okay.

Breakups fuckin’ _suuuuck._ I thought I was done crying, but then _Keith_ shows up and makes me cry all over again. And I’m not pretty when I cry! It’s the ugly sort of cry that makes your voice all watery and makes snot come out of your nose. I guess I just...trust him. On a subconscious level.

After a while, I manage to stop. There’s still a few stray tears coming out of my eyes, but at least I’m not convulsing with sobs anymore. I pull away a little and sniff. I cried all over his shirt, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Guess I ruined your uniform, huh?” I say, a poor attempt at humor. Honestly, it doesn’t even land. My voice is still watery and emotional and my nose is stuffy from crying and I’m pretty sure my eyes are bloodshot. But he smiles anyways.

“It’s just a uniform. You can cry on it some more if you want.”

I huff and push him away (jokingly, like you would a friend who made a terrible joke) and I try to wipe the tears away from my face.

“Dick. You’ve been here for ten minutes and you already made me cry.” I’m joking, I guess to cope, and he goes along with it. “What did I do to deserve this? I’m a good Catholic boy. I have never committed a sin ever in my entire life.”

A laugh bubbles out of him and I turn to face him. “You’re only Catholic when it’s convenient.”

It makes me grin. “Maybe. What are you gonna do about it? Gonna call the Pope on me?”

“Yeah, I have him on speed-dial.”

“ _Speed-dial!_ Oh my god, Keith, how _old_ are you? You still got a Razr flip phone?”

He starts counting on his fingers, kind of like Coran does, and he says, “I don’t know. Last I checked, I was 17, but I don’t think— I have too many muscles now. Maybe a couple more bones.”

It makes me laugh. No, actually, I chortle. He’s so dumb (and I say that with love). By the time I settle down, we’re sort of looking at each other. I notice he’s got a little stubble going on, like he hasn’t really shaved in a few days. I probably have a dopey grin on my face. It’s so, _so_ good to see him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I say to him, and I can see some of the ever-present tension in his shoulders leak out of his body. Like he’s melting.

“Glad to be here, Lance,” he replies, giving nothing away.

Man. I kind of want to kiss him. 

But—no, we’re not like that anymore. Besides, I can’t just decide to kiss him just because he’s here. Even if I do miss him. And my breath probably stinks.

That’s weird. I still miss him even though he’s right in front of me.

“First things first,” he says. “You need a shower.”

I sigh heavily like it’s the end of the world (because it basically is) and I say, “ _Fiiine._ But only because I want to. Not because you told me to. This is my decision.” I move off the bed to start gathering things for my impending shower. New shirt, pants, the works.

He laughs again. It almost makes me drop the shirt I just picked up because, wow. That’s something I missed too. I missed his laugh. I didn’t even realize it until I paid attention to it. I dunno, something about it just makes me feel warm. I can’t help but grin back at him. Quiznack. What a guy.

I’m just about ready to shower — all my stuff is in the bathroom attached to my room — when Keith catches my shoulder. I turn back to look at him. He’s got this weird look on his face. Like he wants to say something but can’t decide if he should. Instead, he slides his hand down to mine and interlocks our fingers. It painfully reminds me of what we used to be; my chest practically _aches._ But it’s also really, _really_ comforting. It’s such a familiar feeling that I don’t even hesitate to squeeze his hand in kind. I just can’t look at him, though. I’m staring at our hands.

(He remembers how much small touches like this mean to me.)

“I’m here,” he says, “I’m here if...if you need me. If I can help in, uh, any way —” poor guy, he’s so bad at this. But I let him get it out, “— let me know. I’m here if you need me.”

It makes me smile. I look up at him. “Thanks, buddy. I’ll keep that in mind.” We stand there for a second, not really wanting to move away from each other. “Are you...are you gonna be here once I’m out?”

“Do you want me to be?”

I hesitate. I do. Want him to stay, that is. But I don’t want him to waste his time here, either. He’s hardly ever back on Earth, so maybe he has some business, or people to see, or he wants to go to the market, or—

“I’ll stay.”

“You’ll—what?”

“I’ll stay,” he repeats. It catches me a little off-guard. I can’t imagine what he wants to do here that’s cooler than going to the mall or something.

“Are you sure? Like, you don’t have to or any—”

“Pretty sure,” he cuts me off. Okay. _Okay._ Maybe I’m just being stupid or something. I should count my blessings. So I nod.

“Thank you.” My voice is softer than I thought it’d be. He just smiles in return — reassuring — and his hand slips from mine.

We could have been something, once. Keith and I.

The thought slaps me across the face while I’m washing my hair. I try to scrub it away along with all that built-up grease, but it won’t work. We used to be so close. I remember when I could just. I don’t know, come up to him without a second thought? I could walk up to his room at night and he would let me in without hesitation, no questions asked. And he’d do the same.

I guess I missed that. I still do.

It feels a little weird, knowing that he’s in the other room but feeling like I’ll never be that close to him ever again. The thought makes my throat feel tight.

God— I feel so dumb even _thinking_ he liked me. Romantically, that is. I guess...well, he _probably_ liked me at least a little bit if we used to have sex every other night. But now we’re just friends, full stop. He’s not my boyfriend. He never was. He never wanted to be. I’ve gotta stop being silly like that. We were both horny, probably bored, just curious — really, that’s it. We could have been something? That’s just unrealistic. Keith doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body!

Yeah. It definitely doesn’t make me sad. I shouldn’t use him as a rebound, anyways. That’d just be cruel. I get out of the shower. I just won’t think about it. I rub that thought away like I rub my hair with a towel. Gone. Goodbye.

(But I make sure to brush my teeth. Because I’m not disgusting.)

“Wow,” he says when he sees me. “I almost forgot that you could be handsome sometimes.”

It’s a jab. I know it is. He’s trying to dig for any bit of _normalcy_ that might still exist between us. I know how I’m supposed to react. _Sometimes? You dick, I’m handsome all the time!_ Something like that. But I don’t have the heart to do it. I just don’t have it in me.

So I just muster the most genuine smile I can (which isn’t very genuine at all, for the record), and I say, “Heh, yeah I guess.” I can’t even make eye contact with him. I don’t realize I’m rubbing the back of my neck until my hand comes back damp from my still-not-that-dry hair.

I see him stand from the bed out of the corner of my eye. I bite the inside of my cheek.

“Is everything alright, Lance?”

“Yeah,” I say, shoving my hands into the pockets of my (fresh and clean) sweatpants. I glance up at him, trying for a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pauses, looking me over. “Is it about...her?” he asks. It’s not. So I shake my head. I’m mostly over it now, I think. I know that if I let him look for too long, he might just find out how much I miss... _him._ Just him. I don’t know what _about_ him I miss — maybe it’s the small touches, the smell of his skin, or the dumb arguments we get into — but all I know is it’s good to have him back. It’s like I’m finally feeling _something_ for the first time in weeks.

Before he can open his mouth and say something to make my cry again, I look away with a shrug. I walk over to my bed and grab a controller so I can continue playing _Killbot._ I can’t even look at him. What do I even _say?_ I just. Don’t know how to deal with it and it makes my chest hurt some more because I remember a time when I could play _Killbot,_ leaning against his side, and he wouldn’t even mind. He’d just watch.

I can feel him staring at me. It’s not...a bad feeling. I just don’t know what to do with it. I chance a look towards him. He looks... _very_ worried. He’s looking at me like I almost died in some big heroic fight where I totally kicked ass. Except I didn’t almost die, and there wasn’t a huge battle — just me, smelly old Lance, sitting in the same clothes I’ve been wearing for at least a week. Until he came along, that is. He’s looking at me, and I’m looking at him, and suddenly my heart is picking up speed and the controller feels awkward in my hands and it’s like I’m heading towards a downwards spiral.

It feels like I’m falling. I don’t know when it started, or how it started, but I do know that it just sort of happened all at once. My stomach’s doing flips and I can feel the wind rush all around me. I can’t hear anything. It sort of feels like that dream everyone has where you think you’re falling but your body lurches awake before you can hit the ground. Except I’m not waking up. I can’t even see the floor. And I’m still falling, waiting for someone to catch me — my breakup with Allura only made it worse.

She was never meant to be the one to catch me. I know that now. We moved _way_ too fast and fell out of love before we even had a chance to fall.

Maybe…maybe I was just looking at the wrong person. Maybe I still am. I remember a time when Shiro told me that after Allura rejected me for the first time and it really bummed me out. But I know he’s right. I can’t pretend I didn’t know that from the beginning.

_Lance, it’s not the end of the world. You’re still so young. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to fall in love and it’ll be better than you could ever imagine. Maybe the right person is the last one you’d expect._

That’s what Shiro said to me. It sticks to me like nectar sticks to sunflowers. He smiled knowingly, and now I _know_ who he was talking about. I know who it is, but I _really_ don’t want to admit it. Even just _thinking_ about it makes my insides squirm because I don’t know where these feelings came from or why they’re here in the first place. It’s like a million butterflies — no, _hummingbirds._ Buzzing around until I force myself to think of something else because that person is standing a few feet away, looking halfway decent, staring at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters to him right now.

Did I ever love Allura? Or did I love the idea of being with her?

Were we really just better off as friends?

God — I feel kind of stupid thinking about it. I should have _thought_ about it. Allura had a messy breakup with Lotor, maybe I was just the first person she knew she could turn to. And now that we’re broken up, there’s no telling if we’ll ever be as close as we used to be.

But Keith — with his stupid long hair and his dark eyes that seem to _loooove_ boring into me like this — Keith hasn’t really...changed. Not in any way that matters. He’s stronger now. More mature. But he’s still just as impulsive and easy to irritate as I remember him being. 

And there’s this softness to him — something that’s always kind of been there. I only started seeing it during one of the last nights we spent together. He’d look at me like he is now — like I’m something precious to him. I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it, either.

But looking back, I can remember him giving me that same sort of look. Even before we were in that weird friends-with-benefits situation. He’d knock me on my ass during training, and he’d look at me like that as he helped me up. Every peace offering he’d ever made to me, every moment where that silly mask he wears would crack and show how he really feels.

And right now, he’s giving me that look. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. It makes my chest ache and I feel a lump growing in my throat again because I can’t bear to look at him when he’s giving me that look. So I press play on my controller and tear my eyes away from him, and I start playing _Killbot_ again because I’m a coward who can’t deal with his own feelings, apparently.

“Lance,” he says, and I don’t respond.

It’s easier to pretend everything is fine because the universe was saved from some reality-altering bullshit and the reign of a ten-thousand year old tyrannical empire that seems like something straight out of a comic book. It’s easier to press the buttons on my controller and listen to the music from the game and pretend that this is just another normal night at the Garrison.

“Lance.”

I feel the bed dip next to me, and I know he’s sat down next to me, but it’s easier to pretend I didn’t notice. It’s easier to take the easy way out and _pretend_ that my feelings towards him aren’t actually there. It’s easier not to think about the fact that I could have been crushing on him for a _long_ time but I never realized it because I always thought he was trying to prove he was better than me in every single way.

“Lance, can you just look at me?”

I can’t. I can’t _just_ look at him because every time I do it makes my chest ache with some weird longing that I didn’t know was there. I can’t _just_ look at him because I’ll just think about what _could_ have been between us, but what never was because he clearly can’t feel that way for me. We were just a bunch of horny teenagers who needed to get off or we’d go insane. That’s it.

Then I feel him stand up from the bed, and he sits in front of me, blocking the game from view. So I press pause. Because he clearly isn’t going to let me take the easy way out. Sigh. 

“Lance…” he just says my name. It rolls off his tongue like it belongs there. He reaches out and gently takes the controller from my hands and sets it aside. I let it happen. “Are you okay?”

I feel him reach out and touch my cheek. He cups the side of my face, and I can’t help but meet his eyes then. He makes me feel like I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve. I might as well be when I’m with him.

“Yeah,” I say. “Just peachy.”

He frowns. “You can tell me the truth. You know I’ll never judge you, Lance.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I look down at the collar of his uniform. It’s well worn and a little faded, but still holding up. I can see a few flyaways sticking out of his ponytail and suddenly all I want to do is run my hands through his hair because it’s longer now and probably just as soft as I remember it being. But I can’t do that right now because he wants me to say _something,_ except I don’t know _what._ For once, I don’t have any words.

Then he sighs, and I look up in time to see him lean in to rest his forehead against mine. His touch is so gentle that I don’t know what to do with it. It’s not the first time he’s touched me this tenderly, and it probably won’t be the last. God, I hope it’s not the last. I already feel my eyes stinging.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong,” he says after a long pause, “but just know that you can trust me. No matter what.” He pauses again. I try not to hold my breath. What’s he gonna say? _Just kidding! I don’t want to talk to you ever again._ That’s stupid. Keith...he wouldn’t do that.

“Lance, you...you mean a lot to me,” he says slowly, like he’s deliberating on each word as he says it. “Okay? I know that I’ve never been good at saying what I mean, and sometimes that...makes things _hard,_ but I’ve wanted to tell you that for a long time now.”

My breath catches. If I was expecting anything at all from this, it definitely wasn’t _that._ I think I need to learn when to stop expecting things to all go to shit. The universe might hate me for bringing Keith here _now,_ of all times, but maybe it has some good intentions after all.

But — then I notice that _he’s_ holding his breath and he’s suddenly very tense, and, because I can’t take _anything_ seriously apparently, I huff with laughter and say, “That’s pretty gay, Keith.”

He jerks back like I just splashed him with ice cold water, and I immediately hate myself for ruining the moment. I didn’t realize how much I wanted him to touch me until he’s not touching me anymore.

“Yeah,” he deadpans, giving me a flat look, crossing his arms. “No shit. So are you.”

“What? No I’m not!” I lie. We both know.

“I’m sure you’re not, Lance.”

I frown. Or maybe I’m pouting. Whatever face I make makes him laugh, which is just a blessing that I didn’t know I needed right now. I try my hardest not to smile 

He gives another look, glancing me up and down. He quirks an eyebrow at me, and okay, I know I can’t argue with that, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try.

“I don’t know where you got that impression, Keithy boy. I’m straight as a ruler.”

“Yeah, a bendy ruler.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

Then I see an idea pop into his head. It’s like I can physically _see_ the lightbulb light up over his head.

“Oh no,” I say. “Oh no you don’t.”

“What?” he asks like he’s the most innocent person in the universe. (Which he isn’t.)

I narrow my eyes at him. “What are you planning, huh?”

“I’m not planning anything.”

“Oh yeah? Then how come —” I stop short as I feel his hand rest on my thigh. He’s rubbing little circles into the fabric of my sweatpants and _damn it,_ it feels nice.

“How come what?” he says. “If you’re so straight, a small touch like this shouldn’t even affect you. We’re just two dudes being dudes. Buddies hanging out.”

For a moment, I give in. I let him touch me. I’m starting to realize that’s all I want to do with him. Touch.

But — maybe that’s _all_ he wants. My chest hurts again. Maybe it is. Maybe all of this is an elaborate scheme to get in my pants and I totally fell for it. He doesn’t want me. Not in the way I suddenly want him. I can feel his hand slowly inching up my thigh, firm but gentle. Do I want this? I do. It’d be nice to be what we used to be. But that’s just not enough anymore. I want everything we were and _more._ I need to know.

But his hands feel so nice. I can’t help myself. I don’t want to think about that right now.

“How come what?” he presses.

I don’t have an answer. Genuinely. I forgot what I was going to say. He’s leaning forward, towards me, and my words are just caught in my throat. God, I want to kiss him. I want to grab the back of his neck and kiss him senseless. I want to grab his hair, run my fingers through it (I bet it’s still just as soft), braid it, maybe. I don’t know.

“Nothing,” I say instead. It comes out more breathless than I intended. I know I’m getting hard, and my sweatpants will do absolutely nothing to hide it. “You—You’ve made your point.”

“Oh, I have?” He grins at me. I know that grin. He’s got an eyebrow raised and a lopsided smile. The bastard’s smug. “I guess I should stop then, huh?” he rhetorically asks, pulling away. I want to keep him here. I want to pull him back in and kiss him. And touch him. There’s a lot I want to do, but don’t.

I turn away in a huff, crossing my arms. “Dick,” I mutter. Speaking of, mine is still stirring with interest. I don’t know what to do about it. I could grab a pillow and cover it, but that’s way too obvious. Could tuck it into the waistband of my sweatpants, but again. Obvious. I look back at him, and he’s biting his lip. “What?” I ask. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he lies. But he’s trying not to smile.

Is this a game?

I uncross my arms and slowly lean forward. Just testing the waters. I place my hand next to his thigh and lean into it. I scoot a little closer. I see him inhale sharply, looking at me expectantly.

This is definitely a game.

“What, you nervous?” I tease. Because teasing is easier than wondering what we are.

“No. You?” Keith was never one to back down from a challenge. Luckily, I’m not either.

“Not at all,” I say with a grin. But I am. I probably am. Given how fast my heart’s beating, and how tingly I suddenly feel in my fingertips, I’d say that I am. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?” he says expectantly.

“Well what?”

“Are you just gonna sit there all day?”

“Maybe. It’s comfortable.”

Keith just rolls his eyes in response. Our faces are pretty close now. I can see the way his dark eyes drag over my face, lingering over my lips. If I wasn’t hard before, I definitely am now. He slowly brings his hand up to cup my cheek, my jaw, then he cards his fingers through the hair on the back of my head. There’s goosebumps all over me from just that. _Just that._ Just that simple action has me melting like butter in his hands.

Man, I’m so far gone.

I kiss him. I can’t help myself. It’s soft and gentle, not necessarily what I’m used to from Keith. It’s not a bad thing. But it makes my chest ache with that _fucking longing_ again. It feels like someone’s squeezing my heart, and I can’t really handle it right now. It feels like I’m going to cry. So I grab a handful of his hair and move to sit in his lap before I can think too hard about it.

Then it’s not so gentle anymore. This is good. Better. Familiar. I can deal with this.

He grasps at every part of me he can reach — he runs his hands down my back and roughly squeezes my ass. He practically lifts me (I gasp in surprise) further onto his lap, and I _know_ I’m not the only one hard here. I grind down onto his bulge; he bites my lip, I bite his too. It’s so familiar that I can almost pretend I never dated Allura.

Oh man. Allura.

What is she going to think about this? She’ll hate me, for sure. If she doesn’t _already_ hate me. She and I never did this sort of thing together. We kissed, sure, but that was all. She didn’t make my skin prickle with heat the way it does with Keith. She didn’t drive me crazy in the same way he does. She never—

Keith pulls away, tearing me from my thoughts.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, just,” I kiss him again, briefly, “just need to stop thinking.”

“What were you thinking about?”

I hesitate. It’s not exactly bedroom talk to mention you were thinking of your (very recent) ex. So I shake my head.

“About things that don’t matter right now. It’s dumb.” I kiss him again before he has the chance to respond. And I decidedly _don’t_ think about Allura. Keith is here. Keith is the one touching me. _Keith_ is the one running his hands up and down my sides, making my skin burn in the best way. He’s the one kissing me senseless, whose hair I’m gripping. Most of it has fallen out of the hair tie, I think. Good. It’s better this way.

His hands rub my thighs, from the outer part to the inner part, up and down. His hands touch the part where my legs meet my hips, and I _know_ he’s purposely neglecting my dick. I make a point to grind down on his, and I hear him grunt. He breaks the kiss to start kissing and nipping down to my neck, where the bastard _knows_ I’m sensitive.

I miss these games we used to play. To see who would give in first. Usually it’s him, and today’s probably no different. But I’m just as impatient as he is. We used to push each other all day, to see which of us would crack first by the end of the night. It was fun. I really miss it.

Keith tugs at the bottom of my shirt and I raise my hands above my head so he can slide it off. Not like I needed it anyways. It lands with a muted thump somewhere to my left.

His touch feels electric on my skin. Countless goosebumps rise where his fingers touch, and I can’t help the small noise I make when his fingers run over my nipples. He pauses. And he does it again. And again. Fuck. It feels so good. It’s been so _long_ since someone touched me like this.

He pushes me until I’m lying on my back. I watch as he takes his Marmora uniform off, piece by piece, and I’m suddenly hit by the realization that _I didn’t lock the door._ But — Well, it’s hard to think about that when there’s an absolute god of a man kneeling above you.

Keith’s sitting up, chest bare, looking at me. And I’m looking at him. We’re both breathing hard. He tugs his hair out of the hair tie and it falls to frame his face in the best way possible. His chest is so much more defined than it used to be. I tentatively touch his hips. I drag my hands over his skin, just feeling the muscle definition there. Man. Training with the Blade has served him well. I hear him mutter my name and I look up at him. His eyes are dark with lust. I lean up to touch the back of his neck. Then I pull him down to kiss him again because I can’t get enough of him.

His hair tickles my face and I’m loving every moment of this. It feels like I’m dreaming, kissing the boy that will always hold a special place in my heart. But that has me thinking again — _we_ _could have been something._ If I hadn’t been so fucking stupid and oblivious to my own feelings, I would have known. But it’s too late now. It’s far too late for feelings. The universe doesn’t care. It goes on, whether or not you’re ready. No matter how much you wish you could go back in time to just, _redo_ something, to yell at your past self, to do all kinds of things — you can’t. We missed our chance. And somehow that’s the saddest thing of all. There it is again, that ache in my chest. I can barely stand it; if Keith ever thought of me that way, he certainly doesn’t now. This is just — he just—

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my sweatpants, and I panic.

“Wait, stop,” I say, grabbing his hands. It’s too much.

“I’m sorry, I thought—”

I hold up a hand to silence him. “It’s not that I—” I pause to collect my thoughts. And to breathe. (I’m breathing hard.) “It’s not that I don’t want this. I do. I just...I dunno. Is this all we’re gonna be again?”

“What?”

“This! Just — all of this!” I gesture at the both of us. “Fuckbuddies. Friends-with-benefits. Whatever it was!”

“Lance…” his voice is soft. He’s looking down at me with what feels like pity. And I hate it. “Lance, I—”

“No, just,” I cut him off, I don’t think I can handle whatever he has to say. “Don’t.”

I sit up. I ruined the moment with my stupid emotions. Great. I can’t even _look_ at him. We’re awkwardly sitting on my bed, I’m shirtless, and most of his armor is off. This is a mess. _I’m_ a mess. I knew I shouldn’t have let him in. Why did you have to come, Keith? This is worse than not seeing you at all.

“Lance,” he starts, tentatively. I don’t look up. “Are you okay? What brought this up?”

“What do _you_ think?” I snap. I’m staring very hard at my discarded shirt, to the left. I can feel his eyes on me, searching.

He tries again. “Lance, look at me.” I might cry again if I do. He gently cups my cheek and nudges me to look at him. I can’t resist him. I never could, he makes me weak. So I meet his gaze.

“Are you _sure_ you want to be doing this?” he asks. Ever so fucking considerate. (I’d almost prefer if we were fighting instead.) “We can stop. If you want.”

I take a deep breath and look away again. Looking at Keith is like staring at the sun at sunset sometimes. You can’t look for too long, or your eyes start to water. (Get it? Because he might make me cry at any moment?)

“I dunno, man,” I mumble. “I’m a little fucked up right now. Broken, or whatever.”

“ _Hey,”_ he says firmly, putting both of his hands on my shoulders. His warm, calloused hands. I look up at him again. “You’re not fucked up. You’re not broken _‘or whatever.’_ You are Lance McClain — smart, resourceful, caring Lance. You’re the Lance that piloted the Blue _and_ Red Lion. The Lance who’s always got my back.” He gives me a smile. It feels like he’s tearing my heart out of my chest with his bare hands. I try to smile back. I don’t think it really works. He takes his hands away.

“Listen,” he starts, (nervously?) pushing his hair back. “I don’t know what to say to make any of this right. I just — I’m bad at this. You know that.”

“Yeah,” I say with a half-hearted huff of laughter. “You really are.”

He shakes his head...amused? Fondly? I don’t know what he’s thinking of me. I can’t tell. And I don’t want to hope either because that’s just going to make it worse. I don’t think he loves me. Or if he does, he’s not _in_ love with me. We’ve been apart too long. Any of that must have faded by now, _especially_ after I came to _him_ before my first date with Allura. God — what was I _thinking?_ Stupid, _stupid_ Lance. Sure! Go to the guy you used to fuck! Brilliant idea! What I dumbass I used to be. I _still_ am. Ugh.

“Just,” Keith starts, but cuts himself off with a groan. He pulls his hand down his face. He growls something to himself that I can’t make out.

“Lance,” he starts again, “you don’t give yourself enough credit. You might not know exactly what you want, or what you’re doing.”

“Gee, thanks,” I mutter.

He ignores me. “It might not feel like it, but people care about you. Your friends, your family — we all care. We’re here to help you up when you’re down. To help you get over heartbreak. To give you whatever we can when you feel like you don’t deserve it. Even if you try to shut us out, we find a way through.” At this, he smiles. (He did. Find a way through, I mean.)

“So, this,” he gestures vaguely at us. “We don’t have to do this anymore. We can stop. If you want. We can just be friends, normal friends who do normal friend things like go to the mall, catch a movie, anything.”

That sounds horrible. Keith may be smiling at me, but I know neither of us want that. My stomach twists itself into knots, these awful knots that go on forever and spiral into this terrible nothingness. I don’t know how I’d deal with that. To have this boy within reach but not being able to touch him. Well, he’s not so much a boy anymore, is he? I kind of miss the way things used to be. Pointless nights, meaningless feelings. I didn’t know any better back then. I was just having fun, letting off some steam. (You’d be surprised how horny teenage boys can be, even in space.)

I can’t exactly pinpoint when I started to love him. I denied it for a long time, I know that. I’d have these thoughts about Keith that were just...too soft for me to handle. My chest would feel weird and I’d have bees buzzing around in my stomach. I used to stop them in their tracks, stomp them down until I didn’t think about it anymore. It’s a talent, really. I didn’t think I hid my feelings or bottled things up, but man, was I wrong. I thought that was Keith’s thing. But he cared so much. I know that now. I used to joke about him falling for me, he’d deny it. Well, joke’s on me, I guess.

Maybe I loved him this whole time. I’m not in the mood to deny it right now. Sure, I think, _eww gross, I don’t like him that way. Keith? No way!_ But now…

“Lance? Are you okay?” He reaches up to wipe my cheek. His touch is so gentle, it hurts. I didn’t even realize I started to tear up. “Hey, it’s alright,” he says. “We don’t have to talk about this right now.”

I roughly wipe the rest of my tears away and sigh heavily. “It’s not that,” I begin. “It’s just...emotions really fuckin’ suck.”

He huffs with laughter. “Yeah, you got that right.”

There’s a pause where neither of us know what to say. It’s bordering on uncomfortable. I can tell there’s this unresolved tension between us and neither of us really know what to do about it.

“I think I need to be alone right now,” I say to him. It hurts to say but it hurts even more to be in the same room as him. _Especially_ after that heated makeout sesh.

He looks surprised — I can’t blame him for that. “Lance, are you sure?”

I nod. “Yeah.” I pause, trying to collect myself. “Just need to do some thinking. That’s all.”

He seems conflicted at that. Maybe a little hurt? (No, that’s nonsense.) But eventually he nods back at me and says, “Alright. If that’s what you need, I understand.” He gets up to leave, pulling his Marmora armor back on, and it takes everything I have to not reach out to him. Then he crosses the room.

He pauses at the door and turns back to me. I try not to hold my breath.

“If you ever need anything — and I mean _anything_ — don’t hesitate.” He gives me a smile that could melt the hearts of thousands of people. It’s a rare smile that I like to think he saves just for me. “I’ll be here. You know where to find me.”

Then he’s gone. _Poof_ — out the door.

And it feels like a part of my heart leaves with him.


End file.
